


Litost

by siriuspiggyback



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 00:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuspiggyback/pseuds/siriuspiggyback
Summary: Litost - (noun) -  'a state of agony and torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery'Or, the one where they find out about the mausoleum - but not without a few misunderstandings first.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Luther Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 83
Kudos: 1297





	Litost

**Author's Note:**

> this trope has definitely been done before, but here's my take. assumes that the apocalypse was averted by [REDACTED]
> 
> thanks to mildeamasoj for the title!

Klaus sat opposite Ben on the floor, legs crossed underneath him. The cold wood flooring was leeching his warmth, but he refuses to put socks on, preferring to pretend that his toes weren’t halfway numb. His hands were clenched in tight fists, but they stubbornly refused to glow blue. He sighed. 

“It’s okay,” encouraged Ben, unheard by the rest of the siblings. “Just try again.”

Klaus shot an embarrassed glance around the room. No one was looking his way; Diego and Allison were helping Vanya train, lifting little glass marbles into the air one by one, whilst Five and Luther poured over some old papers from their father’s office. 

“None of this makes sense,” Luther complained, brows pulled low over his eyes.

Five snorted. “Did you expect it to? The old man was a paranoid bastard. He wouldn’t want this to be easy for just anyone to read.”

Luther just grunted at that, flipping through a folder of old, yellowed papers. “I think these are all property deeds.”

Allison looked up, curious. “How many properties did he own?”

Five looked over his larger brother’s shoulder. “At least a dozen. I doubt he’s even been to half of these. Hey, is that…?”

Luther’s next words curdled Klaus’ stomach: “Why did he own a mausoleum?”

Klaus felt his pulse jump in his throat. He took a shaky breath, looking back down at his hands as they tightened into fists again. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of images that had stirred up in his mind - clawed fingers, snarling mouths, cold, cold eyes.

“Klaus?”

“What?” croaked Klaus, mouth dry. His siblings were looking at him with expressions ranging from puzzled (Luther) to pitying (Ben).

“I said, was it anything to do with you?” Five said.

Klaus blinked, throwing up a thin facade, his smile brittle and dry. “Why would it have anything to do with me?” he asked, guileless. It wasn’t his best lie, that was certain, but it didn’t have to be. Klaus couldn’t count all the times his siblings had taken him at face value, never looking hard or long enough to ascertain what lay beneath.

They were looking now.

“Well, it would make sense,” Diego said slowly, “your powers being what they are.”

Klaus laughed, the sound high and barbed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They were still looking at him. His palms began to sweat. He couldn’t read their expressions anymore, could only guess at what they were thinking. Klaus couldn’t imagine that it was anything good. He knew the kind of lines that could be drawn, now that they knew about the mausoleum, now that they wanted Klaus to finally become useful, now that they wanted to see Ben,  _ useless, useless, Number Four- _

“Listen,” he said, licking his lips. “Listen, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not actually a good idea. It makes sense, yeah, but I don’t think-”

“Klaus?” said Vanya, voice quiet.

His heart was hammering against his ribs. “-Listen, trust me, it’s not the easiest way. I can do this, I’m getting better at it, I swear, I just need more time-”

“Klaus,” said Diego.

“-and I know, I know it’s taking a while, but I just can’t concentrate if I’m there, y’know? I don’t think I would make any progress, so, so-” His voice had risen, words spilling faster and faster. 

“Klaus, what-” began Allison.

“Please, listen, I just- just trust me, there are better ways, and I’m sober, and I’m trying, and-”

“Klaus!” barked Five.

Klaus startled, hands twitching up as if to cover his ears, or cradle his head. 

“Klaus,” Five began again, quieter this time, “what are you talking about?”

Silence. Klaus’ eyes skittered over his siblings faces, trying to interpret the creased brows and thin lips. “What?” he said eventually.

“What the hell are you talking about, bro?” Diego echoed.

Fingers twitching at this sides, Klaus said, “The- the mausoleum?” His words drew up at the end, a half question.

“What- What about the mausoleum?” said Diego.

Five shifted closer. Klaus resisted the urge to pull back, to press his back against something solid, to find somewhere safe. “What,” said Five, voice low and slick, “did you think we were going to suggest?”

Klaus swallowed. Was it a trick question? “Well,” he said, voice wavering. He coughed. “Well, I just thought-”

“Thought what?” Five asked, voice fast enough to feel like a slap.

“I-” Klaus said, eyes scouring his brother’s face. He couldn’t make sense of it. Anger, maybe?

“That we were going to, what, throw you in a mausoleum? Lock you inside?” he continued.

Klaus felt ghostly hands on his skin, creeping up the curve of his spine. He tried not to shiver. “I- no?” he said, unconvincing even to his own ears.

“God, Klaus,” said Diego, his voice something like disgust, and something deep in Klaus’ chest shrivelled. 

"Is that really what you think of us?" Vanya said, her voice small and sad.

"No!" cried Klaus, a sick feeling of remorse in his stomach. His lungs felt tight. 

"It clearly is," said Luther. "You really thought we would do that?"

Klaus tried not to look at Luther, tried not to see how huge he was, how strong, capable of tossing Klaus around like a ragdoll. "It's not- I mean-"

Five laughed nastily. "Good ol' family," he said, blipping over to the bar in a flash of blue. Klaus jerked at the sudden sound.

"Klaus," Ben said softly, dark eyes steady and sad. He was watching Klaus. Everybody was watching Klaus. He wished they would just  _ stop. _

He attempted to take a breath down to the bottom of his shrinking lungs. "I wasn't trying to- I just meant, it would be logical, right? I would understand why you might think about it, might think it might-"

"No," said Allison. "No, that’s not  _ logical,  _ that’s  _ horrible.  _ Klaus, you’ve got to know that we would never…”

“I know,” said Klaus, but his eyes betrayed him, flicking over to Vanya. It had only been a handful of weeks since Luther had tried to lock her away, after all.

“That was different,” said Luther. 

“Was it?” asked Vanya sharply.

Luther set his shoulders. “I’m not saying it was right, okay? It was stupid, I know, I was panicking and- we thought you were dangerous. I thought you were dangerous.”

Vanya turned away. Allison reached a hand over to her sister, grasping the wing of her shoulder in silent comfort.

“I am- I am sorry,” said Luther, shifting uncomfortably. “I was just trying to do what dad would have wanted.”

Diego made a derisive noise. “Yeah, because he always had our best interests at heart.”

“C’mon, guys. You know Lu’s trying,” defended Allison. “We all had to figure this shit out, at some point.”

“Yeah, I guess he can’t help being slow,” Diego mocked.

But Klaus wasn’t listening by that point. He was looking at Vanya. Vanya, who had gone still at the mention of their father. Vanya, who was looking at Klaus with big, unreadable eyes. 

Klaus stood, uncoordinated, wiping damp palms on the material of his skirt. 

“Klaus,” said Vanya.

“Y’know, I think I’m done training for the day,” said Klaus.

Vanya stood, face pale. “Klaus,” she said again. “Are- Did he..? Oh, God.”

Allison said, “Van?”

Klaus took an unsteady step back. His heart was in his throat. Everyone was still  _ looking at him,  _ he couldn’t take it, he needed to go, to run-

Luther had sneaked up behind him, grasped his wrist in a huge, uncompromising grip, and-

_ -he felt tiny next to the hulking frame of his father, his wrist made of bone china in the iron grasp of his father’s gloved hand. He writhed and twisted, his feet scuffing the grass but never finding purchase. His shoulder felt like it might pull out of the socket, and he knew that he should stop, should let it all happen, but he didn’t have it within himself to stop struggling, to go quietly. A litany of pleasing cries were spilling like tears, wet and senseless, and he knew that nothing he said would change his father’s mind, but the words came anyway, a babble of, “-please, please, no, I don’t want to, no, I’ll do better, I swear, please, dad-”  _

_ He was tossed through the dark gaping maw of the mausoleum, into the mouth of the beast. It groaned his name, ready to chew him up and spit him out changed, broken. He started for the door, but his father was faster, slamming the doors closed. Klaus collided into them, scraping his palms. The sound of the lock turning was the sound of his death being sealed.  _

_ They were calling for him. They knew his name by now, and they were calling for him.  _

“Klaus!”

He took a sudden breath, lungs burning like maybe he had stopped breathing. His muscles were trembling weak, and he sagged against the hard wood behind him - the bar, he realised, looking at the toppled bar stool at his feet. 

“That’s it,” said a familiar voice, the voice he needed right now. “That’s it, just breathe.”

“What-” said Klaus through numb lips.

“You went there again,” said Ben, almost apologetically.

Klaus realised, suddenly, that he was being watched. Out of the corners of his eyes, they could pass for the spirits that haunted him from that place, but when he looked closer he saw that it was only his siblings, observing him with pinched expressions.

“Oh,” he said.

“What was that?” said Luther.

“A panic attack,” said Vanya quietly.

Luther’s face wobbled, eyes stricken. “I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t going to  _ hurt you.” _

“I know,” said Klaus. It sounded like a lie.

“Except it wasn’t just a panic attack, was it?” said Five knowingly.

“What do you mean?” said Allison.

Five’s gaze was unwavering on Klaus. “A flashback.”

“Flashback? Like- like PTSD?” said Diego.

Ben looked faintly smug at that.

“I don’t have PTSD,” said Klaus tiredly, not wanting to rehash an age old argument. 

Five raised his eyebrows. “That’s what it looked like.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not a qualified psychiatrist,” snapped Klaus. He felt exposed, like his skin had been peeled back to see the damage underneath.

Luther coughed. “Why would Klaus have PTSD?”

“I  _ don’t,”  _ repeated Klaus, drawing himself close to get his feet underneath him. Hands darted close as he pushed himself up onto shaking knees, but he flinched back from them, and they were quickly withdrawn. 

“Klaus, why did dad own a mausoleum?” asked Vanya.

Klaus froze, paralyzed. 

“Klaus, what- You remember how sometimes, when we were kids, your special training would mean you were gone for hours- for days, sometimes?” said Vanya, half regretful, half determined. “Where did you go, Klaus?”

Someone made a choked noise. It might have been him.

“Klaus,” said Vanya, slipping closer to him, hands aloft, non-threatening. “Klaus, you can tell us.”

“No,” denied Klaus.  _ “No,  _ I can’t, I can’t-”

“You can tell us,” whispered Vanya. One of her hands came up to cradle the side of his face, thumb brushing away the wetness on his cheek. 

Klaus closed his eyes. His ears were ringing, and his skin was hot, and everything had narrowed down to that one moment.

“You don’t mean-” said Allison. “He didn’t-”

Klaus took a wet, gasping breath. “Yes,” he said. “Yes.”

“Klaus,” said someone. The air was too thin, and his head hurt, and his eyes burned, and he couldn’t stop the tears from rising up, even though his father had always told him it was a weakness. He couldn’t help but cry. 

Hands on him, but this time they were warm and gentle and grounding. Someone was pulling him against them, taking his weight, and someone else was humming to him softly, and he sobbed, great, heaving sobs.

“I didn’t know,” rumbled Luther. “I never knew-”

“Klaus,” said Diego, voice pained. “Why did you never tell us?”

Klaus shook his head, still crying too hard to speak. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t, except maybe the fear that they might not believe him.

“Well,” said Allison, “we know now.”

“And you’ll never have to go back there,” added Vanya. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Something like hope unfurled in Klaus chest. “Really?”

“Y’know what I think?” said Luther. Klaus tried not to tense up. “I think a demolition project would be a great family bonding experience. What do you think, Van?”

Klaus wiped tears from his eyes, looking to his smaller sister. 

Vanya smiled wickedly. “Between your strength, and my powers? I think we could tear that thing apart.”

Klaus hiccuped, a bubbling laugh bursting out. Sure, it might not undo the nightmares, or the years of drug abuse. It might not change the way his chest tightens in dark, small spaces, or the way he couldn't hear the word  _ four  _ without his hands shaking. But, he thought, it was a start. It was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! as always, comments are much appreciated if you have the time


End file.
